Silence and Comfort
by cloverblob
Summary: Emma, who had been trying so hard to figure out how to make the situation better, dawned on the idea that she didn't really have to do anything at all. She just had to be there - the silence was comfort in itself.


**Story:** Silence and Comfort

**Author:** River123

**Disclaimer:** Don't own it – not Emma, not David, not Mary, but I do own Ruby. Yes, that's right. I bought her the other day off amazon for twenty six percent off… obviously not. Once Upon A Time belongs to ABC productions.

**Author's Note:** This idea just popped in my head and it was not going away, and I couldn't finish writing the next chapter of _Closer To You_ before writing this. I love me some Mary and Emma bonding, I really freaking do. I may do a David and Emma bonding one to follow up, if this is received well. There are enough romance fics out there; family fluff is just as good!

**Silence and Comfort**

It was late when she'd gotten the message – nearing eleven o'clock, and she had fallen asleep at her desk. Her cheek rested flush against the mahogany finishing, the slightest bit of drool escaping the corner of her mouth. The loud vibration against the desk had jolted her upward, and she sat disoriented for long seconds. It was that disconcerting feeling of not knowing where you were, thinking it was morning and time to go to work. But it wasn't time to go to work. It was almost two hours past the time to close.

She must have fallen asleep finishing up the paperwork. If there was one thing she was trying to avoid, it was the mayor breathing down her neck – so she had to make sure everything was done by the book; which sadly included paperwork, the likes of which were now sitting in various unorganized piles before her. She ran her fingers through her hair with one hand, forcing the thick strands away from where they had been collecting in front of her face, the other hand reaching for the source of her disgruntled awakening.

Unlocking her phone, she scrolled towards the blinking message icon and read through fatigued, squinting eyes. Either she'd also gotten very stoned before falling asleep or the text message actually read, '_emms cn you cmo glep ra.'_ As she was about to delete, for it must have been a pocket dial of some sort, the phone shook in her hand. It read, '_emma*'_ – because, _apparently_, the spelling of her name was the only thing that needed fixing in that sentence.

She sighed, standing up from her desk chair with a much needed stretch and yawn, and placing the phone in her jean pocket. With only the slightest bit of revitalization, she made her way toward the door, taking out the keys to the office, setting the alarm on, and locking up behind her as she left and walked toward the street. She hadn't brought her Volkswagen to work that morning, having decided to walk instead – after all, the town wasn't exactly huge – and taking the patrol car seemed pointless. Not to mention, Mary Margaret's apartment simply didn't have the parking space.

The walk down the main street wasn't long; Emma had reached the bar in good time. She heard the familiar sound of the bell ringing as she pushed the door open, looking gingerly around the place. It was all spruced up, decorations not yet taken down; hearts of every shape and tone were strewn in leaden decorations across the room, small teddy bears with sewn in hearts that read, 'Be My Valentine', were on scattered tables. Emma found the whole thing to be a little nauseating.

She scoured the bar, resting her eyes upon two brunettes lounging at a table by the corner. As she reached them, her eyes scanned the empty glasses that were pushed to the middle of the counter. Mary Margaret still had a drink in her hand, sipping it from a tiny straw – she was hunched over, propped up solely by her elbow and the palm of her hand that held up her head by her chin. Ruby was face down, head in her arms crossed upon the table.

Mary noticed her almost immediately, her big green eyes perking up at the sight. "Emma!" she exclaimed, her voice slow and fluid. "You came!"

"Yeah," Emma said, an amused smile crossing her lips. "Girl's night again? I got your message."

"Uh-huh, you did," Mary said, with a tired, open-mouthed grin. Her words sounded childish, not ending on the right consonants, blending at the verbs. "Oh. I spelt your name wrong, I'm so sorry." The woman looked genuinely anguished by this fact, as though actually hoping for some forgiveness for her crime.

Emma knew she shouldn't have been entertained by this; she had to pause, looking away into the distance as she struggled to compose herself. "Yeah, don't worry. I didn't even notice," she replied, just the slightest bit patronizing. "How much did you guys have to drink?" Emma asked, looking pointedly at the younger girl sitting across from her.

Mary turned her attention toward her Ruby, reaching her hand out and shaking the girl's arm unevenly. When she didn't budge, Mary turned back to Emma, still standing at the edge of the booth. "Don't worry, she's just taking a little nap," she explained, nodding eagerly. The movement of her head must have made her dizzy, because she closed her eyes for a few moments before brightly looking back at her roommate. "Come sit down, have a drink with me," she said, grabbing a surprisingly firm hold onto Emma's arm and pulling her until she had no choice but to take a seat.

"I think I should really just take you home now," Emma started, reaching her hand up to call the server over for the bill, but Mary swatted at her until she placed her arm back at her side.

"Try some of this," she said, pointing into her glass. "It has vodka and cranberry juice and-and-and vodka."

"You said vodka twice."

"No, I didn't," she replied, looking offended at the notion.

Emma shook her head, humouring her. "No, you're right, you didn't." She watched Mary take very tiny sips from the drink for a little while and found herself wondering how in the hell she had even gotten drunk in the first place. But that wasn't the matter at hand, and instead her thoughts reverted back to the other occupant of the booth. "Hey, Ruby!" she called loudly. The sound of her name was enough to wake the young woman, who sat up abruptly, looking around. "It's time to go home now."

"Is my gran here?" she asked, voice rather quiet with the hum of the bar.

"Do you want me to call her for you?" Emma asked becoming distracted halfway through her sentence as Mary decided to use her as a leaning post, resting her head into the crook of the blonde's neck – the position forcing her to wrap her arm around Mary's shoulder so she wouldn't fall.

Ruby stood up, shuffling out of the booth. "No, I'm not drunk."

"That's what everyone whose drunk says," Mary piped in, as though she wasn't going to be guilty of exactly that.

"I'm fine, guys. You're the one who's wasted. The inn is right around the corner, I'll be fine." She reached for her clutch purse, a satin red thing, and pulled out her phone as she waved goodbye to them lazily and made way for the exit.

The two of them sat for a little longer in silence, Mary continued to drink until the sound of her drinking became the sound of her sucking air through the straw and she placed the empty glass down. "Emma," she said, her voice now had a whiny texture to it. She was tiring out.

"Hmm?"

"You are such a good friend, you know that? I need help and you always come," she smiled languidly. Somehow, her hand had snaked its way around and Mary patted Emma on the cheek in what must have been reward for her stated behaviour.

"You are so drunk," Emma stated, a smirk on her face as she shook her head disapprovingly.

"I don't want to be in love anymore, Emma. Look at him, sitting there, with… his eyes and stuff."

Emma spun her head around, matching her eye line to where Mary was now actively staring. At a table at the other end of the bar sat David, whom Emma had not noticed, chatting closely with Archie. He took a glance their way, and their eyes caught for just a moment before he looked down hurriedly. It was awkward, but she didn't look away until Mary spoke in her intoxicated stupor once again.

"Why couldn't I be in love with you? You wouldn't leave me for your wife, would you?" she asked, looking up, though she continued to lean upon the blonde for support.

"Never," she indulged, chucking lightly.

It was clear Mary Margaret's energy was winding down; her eyes were starting to droop as her general body mass became heavier upon Emma. "We should just go be gay," she said, barely muttering the words.

"I don't know if you're really my type, Mare," she replied, propping the woman upright in the booth again before standing herself. The bar was slowly emptying out already, and Emma had wanted to go home much earlier. Staring at the object of your affections longingly really didn't do anyone good. "We're going home now, okay?"

"Okay. Do you think it's okay throw something at him first?" she asked, the slightest hint of hope that she would say appearing in her tone. The encouragement to do so would probably have been enough for Mary at this point to just carry the action out.

"How about this, if you still want to throw something at him tomorrow, we'll buy a carton of eggs and drive by his house." This suggestion seemed to please Mary as a grin appeared upon her lips and she took hold of Emma's outstretched arm to get to her feet.

Holding much of Mary's weight, Emma found her footing and helped her toward the door, opening, exiting, and relishing in the cool air that came across their faces. The alcohol had made Mary Margaret warm, and the frosty air was refreshing. They began to make their way down the street, mostly in silence toward their apartment until the sound of the bell which rung as the door opened was heard behind them.

"Mary Margaret," called a strong voice, "are you okay?"

Both women turned on the spot. "She's going to be fine."

"I'm great."

"Are you sure?" he questioned, rushing up to them in a quick stride. The street dinned with the sound of his voice and subsequent footsteps. It was night time, the town seemed empty – not a car, not a person in sight. The moonlight was clouded, but the streetlights hung above them.

"Go home, David," Emma said begrudgingly. She certainly felt for her best friend, and the bias was obvious in her tone. She kept her arm firmly entwined with Mary's, keeping them both grounded in their spot as he now stood before them.

He grimaced, trying to catch Mary Margaret's eye. "I know. I'm just a little worried."

"You don't need to be," Mary said quietly. "I have Emma." To make her point, her grip tightened noticeably upon the blonde's arm.

David nodded solemnly, not quite sure how he should respond. "She's right," Emma said. "So you can go be indecisive somewhere else to _someone_ else. Let's go. " Her tone wasn't made to be nice, and she nudged her roommate into the opposite direction.

In the yellow-ish light, he stood and watched them walk away – ever so lopsidedly. Mary turned her head back, and for just a moment, he looked hopeful; until she looked away again. His gaze remained upon the two women until they reached the corner and turned.

"Thank you," Mary Margaret said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Guess you're the mother tonight." The comment made Emma smile knowingly at her reference. They turned the next corner, carefully ensuring Mary didn't trip on a crack in the sidewalk until they reached the gates of the apartment.

"Hah," Emma breathed, "It doesn't bear good tidings when _I'm_ the responsible one." Emma pulled out her keys from her back pocket, shuffling through them until she gripped the right one and turned in the door. They entered the apartment, and Mary released herself from Emma's hold and unsteadily made her way towards her bed. Taking initiative, Emma immediately made her way into the kitchen, searching the cabinets for a bottle of aspirin and shaking two out into her hand before pouring a glass of water. "Here," she said, "take these; you'll thank me in the morning."

Mary did as told without objection, clearly having resigned herself to Emma's care when her roommate began to undo and remove her boots for her. When she had finished their removal, Emma stood up and made her way to place them by the door. Upon the mat, she placed the boots and took off her own pair and made her way back to check on the schoolteacher before heading to her own bed.

It didn't go as intended however, as the sound of Mary Margaret's quiet sobs filled the room. On her side, Mary had turned away from Emma's worried eyes and curled a pillow into her arms. She sat down on the edge of the bed, the weight of the mattress slightly shifting as she did so. Emma looked down at her knees, not quite sure what she should say at the moment, but she didn't have to say anything before Mary Margaret did first. "I'm a good person, Emma. I'm not what everyone's been saying."

"No, Mary Margaret. You're not. And you're not a good person, either." This made the brunette turn to look at her, and Emma lifted her head to meet her gaze. "You're the most amazing person I've ever met. You're kind, and caring, and none of them have a clue."

At those words, Mary Margaret began to cry even harder – the opposite of what Emma had intended. But the sad smile that crept upon Mary's lips revealed that she _had_ in fact helped. The looks they were sharing seemed to share everything that needed to bring a great comfort between them, and Emma lay down beside her, staring up at the ceiling. Two nights in a row; this was getting to be a thing.

She could hear her friend silently cry and pondered for just a moment upon rolling over and taking her into her arms. But the thought made Emma nervous, she wasn't big with touching. People held other people who cried, at least, that was what movies portrayed – but Emma didn't quite know the _actual_ protocol for this kind of thing. So, in her hesitancy, she continued to stare up at the ceiling, presuming to just give the woman her space, but still fighting over the idea in her head.

But Emma needn't have worried so much on the idea, for Mary Margaret answered the dilemma for her and she turned over in her spot and budged in closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and resting her head against Emma's arm. It was completely silent now, except for the sound of Mary's heavy breathing, recovering from her tears. Emma, who had been trying so hard to figure out how to make the situation better, dawned on the idea that she didn't really have to do anything at all. She just had to be there - the silence was comfort in itself.


End file.
